


Moss

by Ignis (wingblade)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Outdoor School, Friendship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-07-10 07:51:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15944981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingblade/pseuds/Ignis
Summary: Noctis volunteers for his college's outdoor school program, where he meets Ignis, a student from Tenebrae.No matter what small intimacies Ignis offers Noctis — leaving him notes every day, along with brisk touches every now and again — something always seems off with the Tenebraen.Indefinite hiatus.





	1. Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> Admittedly, I've lost my motivation to finish editing this story, but if anyone is still interested in seeing the rest of the story, please let me know!

The road leading up to Camp Myrlwood is unpaved, and the gravel scratches against the Crownsguard-issued car. All along the path are tall, lush trees so closely packed together that only slivers of light are able to touch the road below.

Noctis, while having been awake for the majority of the past hour, slips in and out slumber now as he attempts to catch up on sleep. The next week will be taxing, but he accepted that when he signed up for the outdoor school program for his fall term in college. His best friend, Prompto, had been convincing at the time: the camp would be beautiful and secluded, ripe for nature photography, and, best of all, fishing. What finally persuaded Noctis was the guarantee of a college credit, awarded once the week ends.

“Here we go,” Prompto groans as the car stutters beneath them, but it is not long before they pull into a small parking lot near the camp’s entrance. The parking lot is next to the beginning of a vast, green field, and beyond that are a smattering of cabins. In front of them is the main building of the camp; the largest, from what Noctis can see.

Cor, a member of the Lucian Crownsguard, is the one who drove them all the way out to Myrlwood from Insomnia. He turns to face them, his hands still on the steering wheel. 

“I guess this is where you guys get off.” Cor looks at Prompto. “I trust you’ll watch over the prince?”

“Of course.” Noctis can almost feel Prompto’s pride in such a response, as Prompto thrusts his chest out dramatically. “You can count on me.”

The sky is gray and thick with fog as they exit the car, luggage in hand. They trudge up to the main building, labeled “Myrlwood Lodge.” Behind them, Cor keeps the car idling, owing to protective habit.

“Being an appointed Crownsguard sure has its perks,” Prompto says, turning back to the car to wave at Cor. “Like being your designated babysitter.”

“Yeah, yeah. “ Noctis sucks in a yawn, leaning close to Prompto’s ear as he unleashes it, causing Prompto to hop away. “You’re the best babysitter a guy could ask for.”

Prompto has a map of the camp tucked against his chest in case they end up lost, but for now, they step into the lodge.

The walls and floors are made of a dark wood, and all along the far wall are sizable windows, overlooking the forest beyond. A dozen or so dining tables take up the majority of the lodge’s main room, while to his left, there is a door marked “Meeting Room.”

“I’ll go see if they know what’s up,” Prompto says, gesturing to a table near the back of the room where a couple of people are sitting. While Prompto saunters off to make his inquiries, Noctis sits at the table closest to the entrance, plopping his bags on the floor.

Cor had woken them up around five in the morning so that they could make it to the camp before most, if not all, of the other counselors. The fewer people to see them arrive in a polished, black convertible with a royal license plate, the better. Myrlwood is a fair distance away from Insomnia, and the farther away from the capital, they less likely it is for Noctis to be recognized, especially when wearing casual clothing. Leaving early was an additional precaution.

Prompto is waving sheets of paper at Noctis as he returns, a grin plastered across his face. He hands one of the papers to Noctis, then sits down next to him.

“Our cabin assignment is gonna be on here, and our schedules, and some rules, I think,” Prompto explains. The friends peer over the schedule expected of them as counselors: waking up their campers at seven in the morning, lunch around noon, lights out around nine in the evening. It is a significant amount of information to take in at once, but Noctis figures he will be able to keep the paper in his pocket for when he undoubtedly forgets something.

“So, Balmung Cabin,” Prompto says, his voice giddy. “On the map, it looks like that’s a little bit behind the lodge, just up the path there, see —”

Noctis clears his throat. “Uh, I’m in Cactuar Cabin.”

“The what now?”

“Cactuar. I’m in Cactuar Cabin,” Noctis repeats, at which Prompto’s face pales.

“What?” Prompto snatches Noctis’ assignment sheet from his hands, scanning its contents. “Oh, no.”

When they signed up for the outdoor school program months ago, they had done so together on the same application. They were the only ones in their whole school to apply, so their names were the only two on it. They even noted within the application itself their desire to work as counselors for the same cabin. Each of the cabins is assigned two counselors for a group of six elementary school students, and this is an experience Prompto and Noctis planned on sharing with each other.

That had been the initial plan, at least. The thought never occurred to Noctis that he might be able to worm his way out from under Prompto’s watchful eye; while Noctis adores his best friend, Prompto takes his job of guarding the prince very seriously. The idea that maybe, just maybe, he could spend a week without someone watching over him for every hour of the day has piqued Noctis’ interest.

“I’m gonna go talk to the advisors again. We can fix this, Noct. I mean, you’re the...” Prompto leans closer to Noctis, his voice quiet now. “You’re the prince, so it’s not like they can just say no if we ask to be in the same cabin.”

When Prompto stands, his lips pressed together in a huff of frustration, Noctis grabs his arm.

“Hold on.” Noctis thinks, desperately seeking some sort of bribe or excuse he can unfurl on his friend. “This isn’t such a bad idea.”

“What isn’t a bad idea? The fact that they expect me to leave you unguarded, or…?”

“I’ve always wanted to go to camp,” Noctis says, offering his friend an awkward, toothy grin that he hopes will somehow sway him.

“Yeah? And we’re at camp. I’m just gonna go talk to them, and —”

“But think of how inconvenient that’ll be,” Noctis says, playing on Prompto’s kindness. “They’ll probably have to reassign and reorganize all the counselors, and that’ll be annoying.”

Prompto sighs. “I’ve already got your angle figured, buddy. If you think you’re gonna be able to convince me to leave you, unprotected for a whole week —”

“Just when we’re in our cabins. And when we’re not together during study sessions, but that’s it. Please, Prompto.”

“This place is huge,” Prompto murmurs, sticking his thumbs in his pockets as he rocks back on his heels. “You saw the field out there, right? That’s not even half of the camp. Not even a third. And I promised the king I'd protect you.”

“My dad?” Noctis’ heart sinks; he had not known Prompto spoke with his father.

“And I'd rather not disappoint the king of Lucis, if it’s all the same to you.”

“I don’t think he expects you to watch me the whole time,” Noctis tries again. “It’s not like you could keep your eye on me every second.”

More and more of the new counselors are piling into the room, receiving their cabin assignments, then exiting once more, likely to drop off their luggage and settle themselves in for a few hours before the students begin arriving. Two tall men enter the lodge, their physical proximity and the way their mouths move as they chatter hinting at a closeness, perhaps like that of Prompto and himself. One has long, dark hair, while the other has short, brushed-back hair and glasses. It is the buttoned dress shirt that the second man is wearing that catches Noctis’ eye and holds it. Even the man’s hair looks much more dapper, compared to the free-flowing hair of his companion.

Their eyes do not meet until after the men have picked up their assignment sheets and are walking past the table Noctis is still sitting at. The man in glasses looks at Noctis; it is a long, calculating look, more akin to a glare. Noctis smiles slightly at him, unsure of how to respond.

“Whoa. Was that guy giving you the stink eye?” Prompto asks once the men have left the lodge.

Noctis shrugs. “I’dunno. It probably doesn’t matter, anyway. Let’s get out of here.”

“But I still have to —”

At this point, Noctis is already halfway out the door. Outside, Cor’s car has disappeared, leaving the parking lot empty, save for a few cars parked near the back. Prompto follows behind Noctis, groaning. Every few steps, Prompto sighs louder, until Noctis stops.

“Do you remember,” Noctis says as Prompto nearly slams into his back, “what you gave me on my birthday?”

“You’re really gonna go there, huh?” Prompto groans. “I remember, yeah. I promised to get you something — later. Like a video game, or dinner.”

“No, it was more like a coupon. Like a ‘redeem me for one free hug from your bestest bud’ sort of thing.”

As a light drizzle begins to fall, the rain cool against Noctis’ face, Prompto says, his voice thick with defeat, “I’m guessing it’s not a hug you’re wanting, is it?”

After checking the map again, they are heading on their way toward Cactuar Cabin. They walk east of the lodge, making their way down a small hill until they see the cabin, sitting along the bank of a creek. The cabin is old, the wood discolored with age and its roof embedded with moss, with a deck that wraps around the part facing the water.

Inside of the cabin is quiet; the only sounds are the creaking of the floorboards beneath their feet, and the sound of their breaths. There are few decorations on the walls — a small painting or notice of cabin regulations here and there — but Noctis finds that it does not take away from the rustic charm.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Prompto mutters as they enter the sleeping area, crammed with bunk beds all along the walls.

Noctis sits on the bed in the corner farthest from the door, tucking his luggage beneath it. “You’re a good friend. I mean it.”

“Really?” Prompto shakes his head. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Look.” Noctis spreads the map out on his newly claimed bed. “See this cabin here? That’s where we are right now. And see the closest cabin, over there? That’s Balmung.”

“Yeah, with only half a forest and a hill separating them.”

For the next half hour, Noctis lazes on a couch in the front room while Prompto investigates the cabin. His search is based more on curiosity than determining security, as every so often he will excitedly point out something he finds.

“There’s a door that’s locked near the bathroom,” Prompto informs his friend, flopping onto the couch beside him.

Noctis keeps his eyes closed as he slumps back into the cushions. “Maybe it’s a closet.”

Even inside the cabin, the air is chilly, owing to the proximity of the creek. If they could find some sort of lantern or candle, perhaps they could have some lasting heat; there is a fireplace, but Noctis is unsure whether it would be appropriate to light it, especially once the campers arrive tomorrow evening.

“Meeting at the lodge in, like, an hour or so,” Prompto says, checking his phone. “I need to go drop off my stuff, if we’re really gonna do this.”

“Yes, Prompto. We’re really doing this.”

Prompto stands, shifting his weight between his feet. Every time, the floor squeaks beneath the motion. “You wanna come with?”

“I’ll be fine.” Noctis yawns. “Just gonna take a nap.”

Before Prompto leaves, he says something like “don’t forget” or “don’t be late,” but Noctis is already starting to fall asleep. Every so often his drooping eyes will snap open, unaccustomed to the sounds of this new place: the wind scratching against the walls, the light babble of the creek outside.

The cabin door opening is yet another sound he is unfamiliar with, but for a moment he ignores it, presuming Prompto has returned to fetch something — or Noctis himself. When Noctis opens his eyes, he is met with the figure of a man standing at the cabin’s entrance, his hair and shirt sopping wet.

“Apologies for disturbing your rest,” the man says, still not having moved an inch.

Something about his face strikes Noctis as familiar — that sharp jaw and light brown hair — until he realizes it is one of the same men he had seen in the lodge earlier that morning. His glasses are gone now, and his once neatly combed-back hair is heavy with water and stuck to his forehead.

“Sorry, I almost didn’t recognize you. You alright?” Noctis swings his legs up off the couch, approaching his fellow counselor as he offers him his hand. “I’m Noctis, by the way.”

The man looks at Noctis’ hand for a few moments before finally offering his own. His hand is wet and cold, but Noctis shakes it, nonetheless.

“My name is Ignis. I was just surveying the premises when I happened to fall into the creek. Perhaps a quarter mile up the creek to the northwest, there is a small bridge. I was crossing it when a board broke loose, and I fell in.”

Noctis looks down, to Ignis’ pulled-up jeans, and sure enough, one of his ankles is red and scratched raw.

“Whoa. Okay, that needs to be dealt with. We need to get you some clothes, and —”

Ignis motions toward the back of the cabin. “My things are in there. I’ll go change.”

Noctis nods, trying to remember if Prompto had found any sort of first aid supplies in his sleuthing earlier. He scrambles through both the front room and the bathroom before finding a clear container with bandages inside beneath the bathroom sink. Toting the box in his arms, he uses it to push open the bedroom door, and nearly drops it on the floor.

Ignis has changed into a fresh pair of pants, but he has yet to put on a shirt, and his naked back is bared as he digs through his bags.

“I, uh. Sorry,” Noctis mutters.

“Hm?” Ignis turns, pack still in hand, his chest now facing Noctis, unabashedly displayed. “It’s quite alright. This is your cabin, as well.”

While the thought had crossed his mind before, it sinks in fully now that this man is the other counselor designated to look after the cabin with him.

Once Ignis has yet another dress shirt on, he dries his hair with a towel as he sits down on one of the bunk beds. Noctis kneels before him, rummaging through the first aid kit.

“Can I, uh...look at your ankle?”

“By all means. Thank you.”

Ignis had already pulled up the leg of these pants as well, and Noctis starts cleaning the scratches with disinfectant. After he finishes bandaging the shallow cuts, he stands up, then asks, “So, how are you feeling? Do you need a potion?”

Ignis blinks up at him. “I am quite alright. I was more worried for the children, if they just so happened to find the bridge.”

Being this close, Noctis can see the sharpness of Ignis’ collarbone peeking out from his unbuttoned collar. Noctis counts two buttons that have yet to be fastened, and Noctis hopes they will remain that way.

“Noctis?” Ignis’ voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “I do believe we’ll be late for the meeting at the lodge.”

“Right. We should head up, then.”

They walk to the lodge together, side by side but not too close, as if they are acquainted with one another. Noctis supposes they are now exactly that, but the look Ignis gave him when they first saw each other still makes him wonder.

Inside the lodge, Ignis thanks him for his help again before leaving Noctis to find his friend. More counselors have arrived, and are sitting on chairs set up in rows in the meeting room.

Prompto strolls up to Noctis, his hands on his hips. “What’s all this about?”

“No idea what you mean.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you do,” Prompto says, jabbing Noctis with his elbow.

Noctis scans the crowd of amassing people, searching for what had mere moments ago been so close. “His name’s Ignis.”

“Ignis! Well, he’s got a nice butt.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I knew you looked,” Prompto teases as he and Noctis find a place to sit near the back.

“Buzz off.”

A woman is standing at the front of the room, clearing her throat repeatedly in an attempt to acquire the attention of the room. After a few tries, she is able to proceed with the meeting after introducing herself as the camp’s program leader. The meeting consists of a rehashing of camp rules and expectations of the volunteers, and then she brings forth a large box, handing it to the first row of counselors.

“Now everyone will pick nicknames for their wood cookies,” she explains, tucking some strands of fallen hair behind her ear. “Try to base them around concepts of nature — Twig, Spark, Ginger, Maple. And keep it family friendly, please.”

When Noctis receives the box, he picks out the first wood cookie his hand touches — circular and rough, cut from the thick branches of a tree — but Prompto puts more thought into his choice. He rummages through the box, searching for a name tag that will suit his particular needs, and when he has finally chosen, he shows it to Noctis.

“Is there something special about that one?” Noctis asks.

Prompto grins, his smile warm and calming. “It’s mine.”

Once everyone has a wood cookie, the naming process begins. The program leader — Crowe, she had called herself — is holding a clipboard, and as people decide on names for themselves, she jots them down.

After raising their hand, someone says, “Eagle, for my nickname.” The voice is deep and gruff, and when Noctis turns to face it, he sees it is the same man Ignis had arrived with that morning, and who is sitting next to him now.

“Excellent,” Crowe says. “And your name?”

“Gladiolus Amicitia.”

Prompto jabs Noctis in the ribs again, for what must be the tenth time today. “That’s my cabin mate. I walked on him doing sit ups in the middle of the bedroom.”

When it comes time for Ignis to pick a name, he seems to be struggling with ideas, grinding the entire naming process to a halt.

“C’mon, Iggy,” Gladiolus urges his friend.

“How about...say, Fire?” Ignis says. “Is that acceptable?”

“Really? Fire? That’s all you got?” Gladiolus laughs.

“Oh, very well. Fira, then.”

Before Ignis can be pressured into changing his name — to Firaga or Firaja, perhaps — Crowe has noted both his nickname and real name, and is then proceeding to the next counselor.

Prompto chooses “Choco” as his camp name once his turn arrives, after his love for the feathery birds. Noctis’ choice is a little different.

“Phish,” he says, “like fish but with ‘p’ and ‘h.’”

Once everyone has a camp nickname, Crowe brings out another box, but this one she totes out to the main room and places on one of the dining tables. She retreats to allow the counselors to scavenge through it, and inside are markers of various colors, as well as different kinds of glue and ribbon.

Noctis and Prompto grab some supplies, then sit at one of the tables to decorate their name tags. Prompto sketches the likeness of a chocobo’s head on his wood cookie, yellow and fluffy with feathers. On his own, Noctis draws a small fish, blue and crude.

“Is that a fish? Or is it maybe a phuh-ish?” Prompto says, teasing Noctis’ choice of nickname.

Before Noctis can reply, Ignis slips into the seat next to him. He is wearing his glasses again now, and Noctis cannot seem to pull his eyes away until he feels Prompto stiffen beside him as Ignis’ friend, Gladiolus, sits next to him.

“Gang’s all here,” Gladiolus says.

Ignis pushes at the bridge of his glasses. “We have been tasked with decorating the name tags of our cabin’s students, as well, and I figured working together would be the most appropriate course of action.”

Ignis brings up a small box from beside him and begins to place the name tags from inside it on the table. Noctis tries to commit a few of the names to memory — Talcott, Kenny, Dino — but as he and Ignis divide up the name tags, he finds himself associating the names with what he draws. For Talcott, Noctis draws a happy little cactuar, dancing merrily, and for Kenny, he draws a black bird. When Noctis peers over at what Ignis is working on, he sees Ignis is using a pale green colored substance from a tube to outline each of the campers’ names on their respective wood cookie.

“What’s that?” Noctis asks, leaning closer.

“It glows in the dark.” Ignis hands him one of the completed tags, and their hands touch. “Look closely.”

Noctis places it in front of him on the table, cupping his hands around it to prevent any light from coming in, then peers closer. The wood cookie does indeed glow in the dark now, emitting its own soft green light. When Noctis sits back up, Ignis is smiling at him.

After each name tag is decorated, the counselors are able to eat an early dinner. Simple meals have been laid out for them in large containers on one of the empty tables — fried noodles, brown rice, roasted slices of chicken, and fresh salad — and for tonight, the counselors are able to help themselves. Tomorrow, once the campers arrive, each meal will be utilized to teach manners and etiquette to the students.

After glancing at the foreboding salad on the table, Noctis cannot help but pile chicken onto his plate. When he sits back down, Prompto feigns surprise, his eyes wide with shock.

“Really, Noct. I expected better from you.”

Noctis points at Prompto’s plate, full of noodles and a tiny portion of rice, with his fork. “Speak for yourself, noodle man.”

In contrast to both of their plates, Ignis’ has a decent serving of each of the offered foods.

“Don’t like vegetables, then, I suppose?” Ignis asks, unfolding a napkin to lie across his lap. This is somehow the funniest question in the world to Prompto, who nearly chokes on his noodles, and Gladiolus gives him a hearty smack on the back.

“Careful,” Gladiolus says, his voice low. “Wouldn’t want to hurt yourself. Might be better than Melusine getting to you, though.”

Prompto pauses mid-bite, with noodles hanging from his mouth. “Melusin-what now?”

“Don’t listen to him,” Ignis says, dabbing his lips with his napkin. “He loves telling this sort of story.”

“I grew up southeast of here, in Lestallum,” Gladiolus continues. “My dad brought me up here camping every summer, and every time, the local hunters told stories about people disappearing in the middle of night around here.”

“Wha-what’s it look like?” Prompto gulps.

“Beautiful,” Gladiolus admits, “although they say she’s got two massive snakes wrapped around her body…”

Ignis touches Noctis’ shoulder, making him jump, and his breath is warm against Noctis’ ear.

“Would you like to get back to the cabin? I’m not one for Gladio’s tall tales, admittedly.”

The proposition is inviting, especially after having Gladiolus assure them of the existence of a daemon roaming the very camp they are staying at. Noctis waves at Prompto, trying to alert him of his departure, but his friend is too engrossed in Gladiolus’ story.

Outside, the sky is darkening, and Noctis is glad to be heading back to the cabin before night sets in completely. In the cabin, they unroll their sleeping bags onto their chosen beds — Noctis’ in the corner the farthest from the door, and Ignis’ the closest — before turning off the light.

“Goodnight, Noctis,” Ignis says from across the room.

“Goodnight, Ignis.”


	2. Monday

When Noctis checks the time on his phone, it is technically Monday at just over a half hour past three in the morning. He tosses and turns in his sleeping bag, uncomfortable in this strange place. Every time he rolls over, he is either too hot as his sleeping bag smothers him, or too cold as he presses up against the outer wall of the cabin. When he checks his phone again, a mere three minutes have passed.

Before thinking about it too much, he rolls out of bed, scooping up his sleeping bag to drag it with him across the room. The wood of the floor is freezing beneath his bare feet. Back in Insomnia, it is never so cold that he has to wear socks to bed, but then, back home he has the luxuries of both air conditioning and heated floors whenever he desires. 

In the darkness, Noctis sees a lump on Ignis’ bed, which is presumably Ignis himself and not some formidable foe, ready to attack. He places his sleeping bag on the bed adjacent to Ignis’ and lies down. Somehow, it is neither too cold nor too warm over here.

“Can’t sleep?” comes a muffled voice from Ignis’ bed.

“Not really, no.”

“Are Gladio’s stories keeping you up?” Ignis asks, then adds, “They trouble me sometimes.”

“But they’re just stories, aren’t they?” A shiver runs across the back of Noctis’ neck.

“Yes, just stories. And yet the idea is frightening, don’t you think? Of fearsome daemons in the night, lurking in wait…”

“We’re safe here,” Noctis says, thinking back on all of the runes he has seen inscribed throughout the campground, warding off those who might wish to cause them harm.

“And yet the idea of safety does not manage to banish the fear,” Ignis murmurs, more to himself than to Noctis. After a few minutes of silence, Noctis hears the steady in and out sounds of Ignis’ breath as he sleeps. It is not long before the sound lulls him into his own semblance of rest.

He dreams of Insomnia: of the loud, bustling streets as cars honk at each other over and over, as if whoever honks the loudest would be the one to make it out of the traffic first. He dreams of the scent of gasoline, thick in his throat, and of his father’s eyes on him, always. No matter where Noctis seems to find himself in this dream, his father is watching over him, personified as a massive pair of blue eyes taking up the majority of the Insomnian skyline. 

Noctis wakes up to Prompto jostling his shoulder, and his stomach clenches, gurgling with hunger. The room is bright now with the natural light of the sun, at which Noctis groans, covering his eyes with his hands.

“What time is it?” Noctis asks, still reeling from sleep.

“Um, it’s almost eleven.”

As he sits up in his bed, Noctis scans the room, now devoid of his cabin’s co-counselor.

“Why didn’t anyone wake me up?” He is too groggy to even try keeping the accusatory tone out of his voice.

“Ignis said to let you sleep.” Prompto pauses, letting his words sink in. “Did something happen last night?”

Noctis recalls the night prior: changing beds, then falling asleep after having a mumbled conversation of sorts with Ignis. He shakes his head, then stands up to stretch, his stomach growling yet again.

“There anything to eat?”

“Lunch isn’t til noon,” Prompto says sadly, patting his stomach. “But just maybe, your super awesome best friend could help you out.”

Out on the table in the front room of the cabin, there is a small feast waiting for Noctis: a small carton of milk and box of cereal, with a juice box to drink. He shovels the food into his mouth greedily, washing it down with the apple juice. Crumbs of cereal cover the front of his shirt, and he brushes them off as Prompto gawks at him, ing at his ability to make food disappear so quickly. Noctis begins to thank him for the food, but Prompto shakes his head.

“It was here when I came in. Oh, and you forgot the best part.” Prompto points at a food container Noctis had overlooked. On top is a red sticky note that reads:

“Noctis,

I apologize for not waking you for breakfast. You seemed very tired. Please try to eat some of the vegetables.

I remain, etc etc,

Ignis.”

Noctis does not have to open the container to know what wretchedness might lie inside, but he opens it, anyways. To Ignis’ credit, it is less of a salad and more of a serving of diced cheese with a side of lettuce and tomatoes.

“What do you think ‘I remain’ means?” Prompto asks as Noctis picks at the cheese.

“It’s kind of a proper way to sign things, I think. My dad signs stuff like that sometimes.”

“But do you think he’s, like, actually still here?” Prompto gestures to the cabin around them.

“You’re being too literal,” Noctis says, unable to stop himself from laughing. “How long did you stay up listening to Gladiolus’ scary stories, anyways?”

With a little under an hour before lunch, the duo make their way back up to the lodge, where Crowe, the program leader, shoos them away.

“Lunch at noon, then counselor meeting, then students get here around four,” she reminds them before closing the door.

To pass the time, Prompto and Noctis explore. They make their way along the sprawling path of the creek, twisting and turning deeper and deeper into the woods. Prompto rubs at his bare arms, not having brought a jacket and unwilling to return to the cabins now.

“You know, there are stories about this very spot,” Prompto says as they make their way down a path bordered by trees and fungi, few of which Noctis can recall the names of.

“And how do you know it’s about ‘this very spot?’”

Prompto points a few feet ahead of them. “Behold, the largest leaf on Eos.”

To Prompto’s credit, the leaf is quite large; easily surpassing Noctis’ height in circumference, and thin, a recent drizzle of rain causing it to sink closer to the ground.

“So what’s the backstory on this leaf?” Noctis asks.

“Nothing.” Prompto smiles. “It’s just a huge leaf.”

“Wow, riveting,” Noctis says. “Did Gladiolus tell you all of this last night?”

“Up into the morning, too.” Prompto yawns. “He has a lot of stories about the wonders of the great outdoors.”

Before they know it, it is time for lunch. Prompto is reciting to Noctis all of the stories Gladiolus had told him the night before as they make their way back up to the lodge. They arrive a bit after the meal starts, and both of their cabinmates’ tables are already full, so they sit with a group they are less familiar with. One of the counselors at the table is a man with long, blond hair who scoffs at them as they sit down, but he does not bother expressing his disdain with words.

Prompto’s stories last all throughout lunch, too, but his voice is quieter now, with far less enthusiasm than he had earlier. Every so often his eyes dart off to a faraway table — the table Gladiolus and Ignis are sitting at. Noctis wonders if the other guys are thinking about them, too. He has not had a chance to thank Ignis for the food he brought him for breakfast.

After lunch, there is another meeting before the students arrive. Crowe takes them through the schedule for the evening: once the students are here, they will be provided a tour and orientation, after which the buses will be unloaded and the students will unpack their belongings in the cabins. Dinner is to be served at six ‘o clock today, and afterward, there is to be yet another counselor meeting to discuss tomorrow’s curriculum.

“A tour would have been nice,” Noctis says, his voice quiet as he leans closer to Prompto. “I mean, before now.”

“There was one for us counselors earlier, but you slept through it. Guess Ignis didn’t think about that, huh?”

Noctis shakes his head, more to himself than his friend. It had not been Ignis’ responsibility to make sure he attended the tour.

The meeting room is buzzing as four o’clock ticks closer and closer. Everyone walks outside to meet the buses, and they stand in rows in front of the lodge. Noctis shuffles his feet, fidgeting at the hem of his shirt so he does not have to see the faces of the students as they step off of the bus. If he were one of them, he imagines he would feel quite awkward seeing all the adults standing around in such neat, orderly rows.

Crowe does most of the talking as she welcomes the horde of students to Camp Myrlwood, then directs the group to follow her for a quick tour of the campgrounds.

Those not participating in the tour head back into the lodge, and once the students have returned, the meeting room is packed to the brim. The heat of the room is stifling, and Noctis presses his back against one of the windows on the far wall. Soon, after running through the expectations she has of the students as well as the regulations they are to follow, Crowe announces the dividing up of students into cabins. After the campers of Balmung Cabin have been herded to one corner of the room, Prompto offers his friend a final smile.

Ignis is standing next to Noctis before long, holding the box of wood cookies for their campers. He hands Noctis his name tag from last night that he must have tossed in the box along with the others — the one with “Phish” written in black ink on the front and back.

“Thanks,” Noctis says as he slips it around his neck, and Ignis approaches their group.

“Good evening,” he greets. “We are your counselors for the week. My name is Fira.”

Noctis offers the boys a short wave, holding up his name tag. “I’m Phish. With ‘ph,’ like this.”

It does not take long to coax out everyone’s names, and to in turn hand them their respective name tag.

One of the boys, named Talcott, says, inspecting his wood cookie, “Oh, wow. I love cactuars.”

Noctis smiles at this, having been the one to draw a cactuar on Talcott’s name tag the night before. “That’s great to hear, because that’s the name of our cabin.”

With ease, Ignis leads the group out of the lodge and back to the buses to pick up their bags, then he has them all hot on his heel as they head down to the cabin. Noctis stays near the back as Ignis engages with the boys, asking how their trip up to Myrlwood has been, and where everyone is from. As he listens to the boys' responsive chatter, it amazes Noctis at how sociable Ignis has become in such a short amount of time.

Some of the boys exclaim as they pass the creek, remarking on how cold it is down here. Noctis is nodding his head, as if he were not at the very back of the group by now. Ignis reminds them to be careful when passing the water, and to never approach without supervision, which is a warning that likely flies right over their heads.

In the cabin, as the boys choose their beds and begin to unpack their bags, Noctis stands in the doorway, unsure on how to proceed. Ignis is helping one of the boys unravel his sleeping bag — Kenny, if Noctis’ memory is correct — but Noctis remains frozen.

“Phish?” Ignis’ voice breaks Noctis out of his thoughts. “Would you care to show Talcott to the restroom?”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” The bathroom is the first door to the right outside the bedroom, but Noctis is grateful to be free of the noisy room for now. After escorting Talcott, Noctis sits out on the couch in the main room; he is not moping, but he is not feeling too great, either. Despite signing up for the outdoor school program for college credit, he somehow figured he would be better at this. He imagines Prompto is having the time of his life up in Balmung Cabin with Gladiolus, laughing and joking with their campers. For a moment, Noctis thinks he might have made a mistake when he refused to let Prompto switch cabins.

The feeling does not last long, though, as Ignis sits next to him on the couch. He lets out an exaggerated sigh as he kicks his feet out and closes his eyes.

“You’ll get better at it, you know,” Ignis says. “All it takes is a little practice.”

Noctis cannot help but stare — at the ease with which Ignis seems to accomplish any task set to him; it radiates around him like a mist, seeping into his every action. Even the way he reclines back on the couch is somehow refined, with his feet crossed at the ankle in front of him and his back just barely touching the fabric of the couch.

“You didn’t happen to eat the salad I brought, did you?” Ignis’ eyes are open now, swirling with curiosity as he peers at Noctis.

“I ate some of it,” Noctis admits. He is prouder of this than he should be, but his answer makes Ignis smile, all the same.

They are close enough for Noctis to be able to map the beauty marks on Ignis’ face, his eyes darting to each, like discerning the stars in a constellation. Ignis lets him, and even turns toward Noctis so he can see better. After a few moments of silence, Ignis stands, stretching his arms.

“We better get the lads back up to the lodge for dinner,” Ignis says, and again, he takes the lead, keeping the boys entertained as they all shrug into their jackets and begin the trek back up to the lodge. Noctis mingles with the group this time, but finds he does not have much to say — something that might, like Ignis said, become easier with time.

For their first meal together as a group, Ignis presses upon the importance of table manners. He tucks a napkin onto his lap, instructing the students to do the same, then gives them gentle reminders as they eat, such as reminding Dino to keep his elbows off of the table.

Despite Noctis having grown up living this very etiquette every day — learning the ins and outs of such table manners as he had to eat not only with his father, but diplomats from other kingdoms, as well — he again finds he does not have much to say. He thinks back on the various critiques he received as a child: much like the instructions Ignis is bestowing upon the boys now, and yet much more persistent and far less understanding. As a prince, Noctis is afforded many luxuries, but he has never been allowed to forget his taught manners without repercussion. While none of the teachers or tutors thrust upon him had been cruel, the disappointment in their demeanor and voice was always unmistakable. His father had understood the pressure he was under as a child, and was always considerate and understanding. While he always pressed upon the importance of Noctis learning to act in a manner befitting royalty, he was never disappointed at Noctis’ slow ascent.

As Ignis gently coaches the boys on etiquette, this is what Noctis thinks of: his father’s deep, hearty laugh as Noctis yet again finds his elbows on the table, somehow managing to knock a salt shaker onto the floor. In this memory, he is young; young enough to take the brief scolding of his etiquette coach in embarrassed silence, but not too young to relish his father’s laugh. To Noctis, his father’s laugh is home.

“Talcott, could you please pass me the salt?” Ignis gestures to the salt shaker, and Noctis realizes he has come to find Ignis’ voice soothing, like a patient friend.

As Talcott moves to pass the salt, Noctis finally pipes in, his years of training catching up with him at last.

“Actually, you know,” Noctis begins, “it’s pretty strange, but when someone asks for salt or pepper, you should pass both. Weird, right?”

Ignis nods at him approvingly, and Talcott corrects himself, passing both the salt and pepper.

“If I may be so bold, the additional pepper is a nice touch,” Ignis says after tasting his freshly seasoned dish. “Thank you, Talcott.”

The remainder of dinner passes without further incident, and the campers are rushed off to meet with their fellow classmates while the counselors gather. Crowe hands everyone a small booklet containing descriptions of the various activities they might pursue starting in tomorrow’s field study.

“Any new stories from our favorite outdoorsman?” Noctis asks when Prompto slips into the seat next to him.

Prompto shakes his head sadly, but his eyes light up as he reads through the instructional booklet. He and Noctis are scheduled to teach the subject of “animals” tomorrow, out of the four total subjects taught at outdoor school: animals, soil, water, and plants. For their secondary subjects, Noctis signed up to teach water and Prompto signed up for plants.

“Looks like we can go hiking. I guess there’s a spot where they keep a bunch of skulls and stuff,” Prompto says, thumbing through the booklet.

Noctis yawns. “Sounds ominous.”

It is nearing eight o’clock, and time for their first campfire. With tomorrow’s curriculum set, Noctis waves goodbye to Prompto and looks for Ignis, who he finds standing at the entrance of the lodge. His arms are crossed and he is tapping the floor with his foot, as if impatient, but as Noctis is learning, Ignis is much more than he appears to be. Together, they collect their campers from the meeting hall, and this time, it is Noctis who leads the group. While he had not attended the site tour, he knows from the map that the campfire area is a few meters southwest from Prompto’s cabin.

The campfire is in a large clearing, crackling as it hungrily chomps at its provided fuel. All around the clearing are pulsing, blue symbols to protect the area, and in front of the campfire itself are rows of flat, wooden benches. Noctis ends up sitting beside Ignis, with Noctis at the far end of the bench. As more campers and counselors arrive, Noctis finds himself squished further and further toward the edge until he is nearly toppling off.

Ignis catches his arm, pulling his body so close against him that their hips are pressed against each other.

“It’s alright,” Ignis murmurs into Noctis’ ear. Whether he intends the words to be comforting after Noctis’ near fall, or whether he means that he is fine with their new proximity, Noctis is unsure. They are so close that, every time Noctis inhales, he breathes in a bit of Ignis; he smells earthy like the woods, with a hint of cologne, perhaps still wafting around from before he arrived at camp.

Crowe begins the event by playing her acoustic guitar, strumming along as she sings. She plays many songs that Noctis recognizes as popular on the radio back in Insomnia, and the campers join in, singing along and clapping their hands. Even Noctis begins swaying to the tune, and he cannot help but bump shoulders with Ignis, who follows the rhythm and sways right back into him. While Noctis does not turn to look, he hopes Ignis is smiling as much as he is.

After a handful of songs, Gladiolus makes his way toward the front of the group. He clears his throat as he assesses the crowd. When his sees Ignis and Noctis, he thins his eyes for a moment, his lips hard. The look passes so quickly that Noctis thinks, just maybe, it did not have to mean anything, and it was a look meant to be shared with his friend.

“Oh, no,” Ignis mutters.

In Gladiolus’ defense, the stories he tells are engaging, and tonight, he seems to avoid any that might terrify the campers — or Prompto. He tells the story of the great serpent who resides in the Vesperpool, a massive lake north of Camp Myrlwood. The serpent is nothing to be feared, as she is kind and understanding, and will fulfill the wishes of any who are able to guess her name.

“And how are you supposed to do that?” one camper blurts out. Gladiolus turns to him, then points to the sky.

“You look to the stars,” he says, as if it is the most obvious solution the world has ever seen. “What do you see?”

The story is much more fantastical than Noctis thought Gladiolus could muster, and it is keeping the campers entranced. The listeners are now contributing to the tale, describing the various stars in the sky, while a few even claim to have seen this elusive serpent once or twice. Beside Noctis, Ignis is leaning forward as he, too, is immersed in the experience, despite his initial misgivings. 

Gladiolus’ stories last up until the very end of the event, once it has become late enough for the chill of the night to set in and make Noctis shudder in his t-shirt. Crowe takes center stage again, thanking everyone for coming, and to bid them a goodnight. Afterward, everyone is free to leave, and as Noctis stands, he finds himself missing the warmth that Ignis’ proximity had provided him, albeit small. 

Ignis is guiding their merry band back to the cabin, leaving Noctis to fall behind as he pauses to let out a long yawn. He has barely had time to close his mouth when a firm hand on his shoulder stops him from following Ignis’ lead.

“So, hey,” a voice behind him says; it is Gladiolus. “You’re Noctis, right?”

Prompto walks by, with his own campers in tow, and he raises his brow at the scene. As he starts to slow down, prepared to back his friend up in the exchange if need be, Noctis shakes his head at him.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Noctis says, eyes returning to Gladiolus.

“There’s something I gotta tell you. About Iggy.” The tone of his voice when he says “Iggy” is low and possessive, almost territorial.

They walk back in the direction of Balmung Cabin, straight ahead from the campfire site now, but Gladiolus makes a sudden right turn. There is a small building here, more akin to a shed, with a sign labeled “Laundry” on the door.

Gladiolus hooks his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. Even in the dark, his eyes have a light shimmer to them. “So, I dunno if you noticed something off with Ignis.”

Noctis cannot help but think back to the first, mixed-signal look he and Ignis shared the morning prior, but he shakes his head. After everything that has happened so far — the conversations they have had, the exchanges they have shared, and the food Ignis so thoughtfully provided for him — that first look seems like some sort of fluke now.

“Not particularly, no.”

“I’m from Lestallum, so I recognized you right away, Your Highness.” Gladiolus offers a short bow, with a dramatic flip of his wrist, which Noctis ignores, unfazed by the mocking gesture. “But Ignis was born in Insomnia, and raised in Tenebrae.”

From the way Gladiolus pauses, his eyes staring intently, Noctis can tell this is supposed to mean something to him, but he is not sure what that is.

“Well, then that explains a lot, I guess,” Noctis says, despite Ignis being from Tenebrae explaining almost nothing. He scratches the side of his neck awkwardly, looking out into the darkness of the woods.

“Are you not aware of what your father did?” Gladiolus’ voice rises in anger, echoing in the vast emptiness of the forest. “Or, no, let me rephrase that: what he didn’t do.”

“I’m not here to talk politics with —”

“Ignis’ family was killed when the empire invaded Tenebrae twelve years ago.”

Everything around Noctis seems to move slowly now, as he becomes aware of the loud thumping of his heart in his chest, and every rustle of the tree branches blowing in the wind.

“Just leave him alone, okay? He doesn’t need any of what you have to offer.”

“I wasn’t gonna do anything,” Noctis insists stubbornly, despite Gladiolus having already started back toward his cabin.

By the time Noctis makes it back to Cactuar Cabin, the journey much more aggravating alone in the dark as he chews over Gladiolus’ words, Ignis is sitting on the couch in the front room. When he sees Noctis, he stands, and he begins to move toward him, but stops.

“Are you alright?” Ignis asks, but Noctis walks past him, having lost his voice yet again. An apology would be meaningless; Noctis had been a child when Tenebrae was overcome by the empire, and yet he has to say something — anything.

“Goodnight, Ignis,” he says, much like the night before, and yet so much is different now.

Ignis pauses behind him, letting the moment along with Noctis’ guilt fester, until he finally says, his voice quiet, “Goodnight, Noctis.”


	3. Tuesday

“Phish?” Someone is shaking Noctis’ shoulder, their grip firm. “Please wake up.”

Noctis has to rub his eyes at least three times before he is able to make out Talcott standing next to his bed in the semi-darkness of the cabin. When he asks what is wrong, Talcott digs his hands into the pockets of his pants, eyes downcast. 

“Nightmare,” Talcott says, his voice low, and Noctis can see him shiver ever so slightly. This time, despite still being half asleep, he does not falter as he instructs Talcott to dig some fresh clothes out of his pack.

“You can take a shower,” Noctis says quietly, so as not to wake anyone else. “It’s just behind the curtain in the bathroom.”

In the darkness of the cabin, it is difficult to discern the look on Talcott’s face, but Noctis hopes some relief is able to wash over him as he trots off to the bathroom. Noctis bundles up the damp, sweat-stricken sleeping bag, tucking it into a large, empty trash bag from the main room so he can take it to the laundry building later. He places the bag at the far end of the hall where no one ventures, hoping it will remain obscure long enough for him to make a trip out to do the laundry.

As Noctis is returning to the bedroom, Ignis stands in the doorway, his hair disheveled again as it sweeps across his forehead. He is wearing a white tank top and black sweatpants that are riding low on his hips; so low that Noctis can see his black underwear peeking out. In an attempt to keep himself from staring, Noctis looks toward the bathroom door, but not before he manages to run his eyes across Ignis’ broad, bared shoulders, if even for a moment.

“Is everything...how are things?” Ignis seems to struggle for a word besides “alright,” and after last night, Noctis cannot blame him. He had brushed past Ignis, after he had been asked about his well being, but Ignis could not possibly know that Noctis’ sour mood had nothing to do with his words.

“Everything’s fine. Talcott just had a bad dream.”

Ignis nods. “I overheard.”

As Ignis stands before him in front of the bedroom, Noctis cannot slink past him back to bed. While he thinks that Ignis is not impeding him on purpose, he does not truly know or understand his motivations, in the way that Gladiolus is privy to. 

“I never thanked you for breakfast yesterday,” Noctis says as he hears the shower in the bathroom shut off.

“Did you not?” Ignis blinks at him, his eyes still weary from sleep; every few seconds they slip closed, then shoot back open as if he is forgetting each time that he is no longer in bed. “I remember us discussing it.”

“That’s not really the same thing, is it?” Noctis points out.

“I suppose not.”

“Thank you, Ignis.” Noctis tries to make his words sound as genuine as possible, and he is no longer thanking him for just the food. He is thanking him for being so helpful with the campers, for his patience, his kindness, his presence, and for wearing that pair of soft-looking underwear that he cannot help but glance at now.

Once Talcott exits the bathroom, Noctis asks if he left his soiled clothing in the bathroom, to which Talcott nods, his face still sad and ashamed as he refuses to meet Noctis’ eyes. Noctis trots down the hall to retrieve the laundry bag, and when he turns toward the bathroom, Ignis is escorting Talcott back to the bedroom.

The rest of the cabin is woken up a few minutes later by Ignis at seven o’clock sharp, and Noctis is grateful the nightmare incident was able to be dealt with before anyone else had awoken. Many of the campers groan at having to wake up at such an early hour, the sky still a dark red outside the windows, but Ignis is able to lure them out of bed with the promise of breakfast — honeyed ham, fluffy pancakes, and the sweetest of syrups.

While the rest of the cabin heads into the lodge for breakfast, Noctis stops by the laundry building. If Gladiolus had not cornered him here last night, Noctis would have had to consult his map to find the place. The truths that were revealed here are too strong; they permeate the air like a foul stench, and Noctis rushes, tossing the dirty laundry into the washer and mashing at the buttons to turn it on. He is standing outside of the small building, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to ward off the cold, when Prompto passes by on his way to breakfast.

“Are you…”

“Fine, yep,” Noctis says, the cold making him snippy. “Just doing some laundry.”

“It’s freezing out here. Lemme go get you a coat from my cabin, it’ll just take a —”

Noctis shakes his head, pointing off toward the lodge with a shaky hand. “I’m fine, just go. Gladiolus is probably waiting for you inside, yeah?”

From the look on Prompto’s face — the way his eyes dart to the lodge, then slowly back to him — Noctis can tell he is right.

“Really, I’m fine. Not in any immediate danger,” he assures his friend. “Just bring me back something, if you can manage it.”

Prompto scampers off to eat, and Noctis checks on the laundry. Between the time he initially turned it on and when he spoke to Prompto outside, the washer has somehow turned itself off. Noctis switches it back on, frustration bubbling inside him as the washer resumes its cycle. Every few minutes he has to repeat the process, and since he will be missing breakfast again, he hopes Prompto will be able to sneak him something; maybe some of the food Ignis described earlier, savory and sweet, and yet Noctis doubts any of the food here tastes as good as Ignis described.

It feels like it has been hours once Prompto returns with a small bundle, which he hands to Noctis. There is a black, folded jacket, and on top of it is a small container with a yellow sticky note, which reads:

“Noctis,

From what Prompto has told me, you seem to be stuck outside with the laundry. You have my gratitude, and I hope this makes up for it, at least in part.

I remain, etc etc,

Ignis.”

Inside of the container are slices of crispy bacon and a small waffle, all still warm and fresh. There is a fork inside, as well, and Noctis uses this to gobble the food down.

“Does this guy just carry sticky notes with him everywhere?” Noctis asks as Prompto motions toward the jacket that the container had been on top of. Upon further inspection, Noctis can tell it is Ignis’ jacket not only from the shape of the collar and cuffs, but from the smell — that same cologne Noctis smelled during the campfire, except the smell is stronger now, and much more concentrated on this single piece of clothing.

“Ignis said you look good in your t-shirt and capris, but that it isn’t 'practical for this climate.'” Prompto pauses, thinking over the words. “He said that as I was leaving, so I don’t think I was supposed to hear.”

Noctis trusts Prompto with every fiber of his being, and yet his paraphrasing of what Ignis said feels fanciful, as if Prompto heard it from a friend of a friend, and not directly. Once Prompto has returned to the lodge, Noctis puts on the jacket; it is much too large at the shoulders, but he pulls it around his chest, regardless. As Noctis misses breakfast to wash and dry Talcott’s laundry, he finds comfort in the warmth and smell of Ignis’ jacket.

The clothes are clean and dry at around eight-thirty, nearing the end of breakfast, although the sleeping bag needs more time in the dryer. He leaves it running, hoping it will not shut off this time, intending to come right back after he drops the clothes off at the cabin. It occurs to him that he could leave some sort of note saying which cabin he is from, in case someone comes across it on their way to do laundry, but the only piece of paper he has is Ignis’ sticky note from breakfast, and this is not something he is willing to part with yet.

Back in the cabin, Noctis folds the clean clothes and lays them at the foot of Talcott’s bed. He is almost at the front door of the cabin, intending to meet up with his group as they return from breakfast, when his six campers rush inside the cabin, their teeth chattering as they make their way to the bedroom. Some of the kids offer him a greeting of, “Hey, Phish,” or, “You missed breakfast, Phish. It was awesome.”

Noctis passes through the open door to find Ignis, still standing out on the deck. He is looking out toward the creek, his gloved hands resting on the wooden railing of the deck. As Noctis stands beside him, ing at the rippling water laid before them, Ignis turns to him. He soaks in the sight of Noctis wearing his jacket, his face calm and serene as he does so; Noctis is still holding it closed, as it is too large on him to be buttoned-up properly.

“I was hoping I would be able to see you in it. I was half convinced you would have taken it off by now.” Ignis’ breath is coming out in small puffs as he speaks. “You look good. No, you look more than good. You look…”

A chilled glove touches Noctis’ cheek, so cold he has to clench his hands around the railing to keep himself from jumping back. Ignis pulls back for a moment, but only to take off his glove; it is the soft pads of his fingertips that touch Noctis’ face now. He is both too cold and too warm, his entire body flushing red hot as Ignis steps closer. They have been this close multiple times now — when Noctis helped clean up Ignis’ injured ankle, and when they sat together at last night’s campfire — but before now, it had just been Noctis’ reading too much into the closeness. Maybe Ignis had, too, but it has never been a mutual realization that the other wants more; much more.

Ignis’ chest is against his shoulder now, and one of his hands is on Noctis’ back. It moves up the back of his neck to his head, ruffling Noctis’ hair gingerly, then Ignis is pulling him closer to kiss the top of his head. Noctis can feel it — warm lips against the coldness of his scalp — and he forces himself away, pushing away the sensation.

Noctis struggles with what to say. “This is…”

“Yes? ‘This is…’ what? What is it we have here?”

Ignis is not asking about their current situation, nor why they are standing out on the freezing deck when they could be inside the much warmer cabin. The “we” alone in Ignis’ words tells Noctis that he is asking about what has been occurring between them for the past three days. Ignis is asking Noctis how he feels.

“This is...in violation of Camp Myrlwood’s volunteer counselor policy. Specifically, being close to another counselor with no air space, and sharing clothes.” The words stick in Noctis’ throat, heavy and fake, as he takes off Ignis’ jacket and hands it to him. 

Ignis does not reach for the jacket at first, instead letting a moment of silence pass between them before he places his hand on Noctis’. His eyes never leave Noctis’ as he slowly accepts the proffered jacket, now holding it against his chest.

“I will always be here, for whatever you might need,” Ignis says, his shoulders slumped as Noctis starts heading back inside the cabin. “You have but to ask.”

“You ‘remain,’ huh?” Noctis is referring to how Ignis signs the notes he keeps leaving for him, and he means it as a simple observation, but his voice comes out flat and tired.

Ignis places the hand holding his jacket at his chest and begins to bend over at the waist, but stops himself. “Yes, that’s correct. I remain...as always.”

Inside the cabin, the boys have been cleaning up piles of clothes and snack wrappers while Noctis had been outside. Other than that, there is not much else to clean, and everyone is free to head toward their first field study session of the week. After dropping off his campers for a few hours to work with a different set of counselors to peruse the exciting topic of soil, Noctis meets up with Prompto at the designated area for their topic today: animals.

Prompto is all smiles and puns as they meet their new students for the morning, and while brief introductions are made, Noctis is relying on everyone’s name tags to remember their names. The trail on their hike begins northwest of Cactuar Cabin, and they follow along the creek until the path splits off deeper into the forest. Their feet squish in the dirt, as the ground is still mushy from the rain that always seems to be falling; light, yet persistent. Despite the muck sucking at Noctis’ shoes, he is enjoying the sights: lush green plants and trees packed together, with the branches of the trees reaching out over the width of the trail.

The purpose of this initial portion of the hike is to seek out signs of the animals who make the forest their home. There are a multitude of creatures that are known to roam the land here, from large birds to more aquatic animals closer to the creek, and around the Vesperpool to the north.

Prompto is the first to spot the tracks, embedded in the mud of the trail and untainted by human feet. The tracks are small with a slight webbing between the three toes.

“Do you think it could be a chocobo?” Prompto asks, excitement rising in his voice.

Noctis peers closer at the tracks. “Looks a little too small to be a chocobo.”

“It could be a baby chocobo, though,” Prompto says, and their group of students join in on his excitement, expressing their desire to see a chocobo.

Further up along the trail, they spot a bundle of twigs nestled up in a tree, at the crook where a low branch meets the trunk. Inside of the large nest are tufts of blue and pink feathers, with some woven into the nest itself.

“A regaltrice, then, maybe,” Prompto suggests. He explains to the group what the bird looks like, and how it is rare to see them out and about in the wild like this. Although they have not seen it with their own eyes, Prompto explains; all that remains here now are the tracks and the nest.

Around half a mile up the trail after they have passed the abandoned regaltrice nest, the group come across a small clearing that veers off of the path. There is a small, wooden shelter here, makeshift in its construction but enough to keep the potential rain off of visitors. Prompto wiggles his eyebrows at Noctis before sitting on the dirt beneath it, coaxing the students over with his hand. Behind Prompto is a large plastic tub, and despite having been mostly covered, there are still bits of twigs and fir needles that have found their way on top of it. The students gather around him on the ground, forming a small semi-circle. From within the plastic container, Prompto pulls out a skull, its jaw elongated and yellowed with age. Some of the campers gasp, while others scoot further away from the skull on display.

“This...is a sahagin skull,” Prompto says, his voice trembling with pretend fear. “But it’s okay! It’s dead. Been that way for a long time, too.”

A few of the campers reach out to touch the sharp teeth still embedded within the skull while Prompto tells them more about the mighty sahagin, who lurk in bodies of water, using their long mouths to drag prey into the water. 

Seeing Prompto so at ease here reminds Noctis of Gladiolus at the last campfire, and how his stories rolled so easily off of his tongue; and of Crowe, whose songs mesmerized all who listened. To a lesser extent — but no less admirable — Noctis recalls the way Ignis is able to lead their group of campers to and fro with minimal fuss, even when it is time to wake up, or bedtime.

As Prompto is pulling out another skull, Noctis is standing along the trail, testing how his boots fare on the wet, soggy ground. He turns his head to face a sound farther up the path — voices, growing louder with each passing moment until they, too, have entered the clearing.

Leading a group of campers — around half a dozen, like Prompto and himself — is Gladiolus. His face is stony when he sees Noctis; he does not smile, but neither does he outwardly express his disdain for the prince. When his eyes flicker to Prompto, though, his face relaxes, and a grin tugs at the corner of his lips. 

“Gladdy?” One of the students from Noctis’ group shoots up from the ground; a girl by the name of Iris, judging from the wood cookie hanging around her neck. She wraps her arms around Gladiolus, who pats her back. “Didn’t even see me, huh? Too busy looking at Choco?”

“'Choco?'” Gladiolus mutters.

“The counselor! Him.” Iris steps back and points at Prompto, who waves.

Prompto continues with his lesson after Iris asks to be excused for a moment to speak with her brother — whom Noctis realizes is Gladiolus himself — and the second group of campers join in the discussion, sitting alongside their classmates. The siblings step out further onto the path, outside of earshot from Prompto and the rest of the group, but not Noctis.

“What are you doing out here, Gladio?” Iris asks. 

“We’re doing our field study, same as you,” her brother says. “Just heading back a little early.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no. Ignis just needed a break.” Noctis’ attention is piqued after hearing Ignis’ name, and he moves closer to listen in on the conversation better. “He’s further up the trail. He said to go on back without him.”

“And you listened to him?” Noctis says, his teeth clenching. He thinks back to how Ignis fell in the creek yesterday, and how he injured his ankle. Maybe Ignis never told his friend about it the incident out of worry, or for whatever reason, but Noctis still finds it frustrating that Gladiolus could leave him alone in the vast wilderness.

Gladiolus glares at him now from over his sister’s shoulder. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“How far up the trail is he?”

“I told you, this has nothing to do with —”

“Yeah, yeah,” Noctis groans. “But I’m going, anyways, with or without your help. So unless you’d rather your friend not get the help he needs, then by all means, keep on doing what you’re doing.”

Noctis motions to Prompto, who pauses his lesson, leaving the campers to chatter amongst themselves.

“I gotta...I gotta go get Ignis,” Noctis says. “He’s hurt, or something, and I’ve just gotta get down there.”

“Then I’m coming with you,” Prompto replies, but Noctis shakes his head.

“No, you need to take the kids back up to camp. I’ll be fine.” Noctis pauses, looking over at Gladiolus, who is still glaring at him. “And don’t let that guy bully you. He’s kind of a jerk.”

“Gladio?” The familiarity in Prompto’s voice hits Noctis, and deep down, he feels like he has missed something important; like a page has been ripped out of a book, and everyone but Noctis has read it. “He’s not so bad. But if you promise to be careful…”

“I do.”

“I’ll hurry back, okay? Don’t get into too much trouble.” 

As Noctis is setting out — with a map of the campground in his hand, despite not being sure where on the map they even are, exactly — Gladiolus places a hand on his shoulder. Noctis shrugs away from the touch, but Gladiolus’ voice breaks off a chip of his agitation.

“About a mile up the trail, along the creek,” Gladiolus says, pointing to a location on the map. “Just keep heading northwest from here.”

It begins to rain hard while Noctis is walking, making the trail even muddier, but it is too late to turn back now. It was too late to turn back the moment Gladiolus had said he left Ignis behind. The rain is loud, and it is falling in sheets across the forest, slamming onto the leaves of plants and making tree branches sag beneath the weight of the water. Every other step Noctis takes, the ground makes a loud “schluck” sound as the mud attempts to thieve his boots, now covered in mud. He folds the map up and puts it in his pocket to protect it from the rain, but if he took it out now, it would be ruined, anyways.

It feels like an eternity, but it could not have been more than ten minutes later once he makes it to where the main trail meets the creek. The rain has slowed a considerable degree, and it is no longer detrimental to his vision, but it is still uncomfortable as it drenches his clothing. Noctis does not dwell on how cold he is — he refuses to even think about it — when Ignis is out here alone, potentially in a much worse condition than himself. And whatever might have happened to Ignis is Noctis’ fault, after all.

He comes across the drenched man sitting beneath a large tree. His glasses have disappeared again, and his clothes are sopping wet; the scene might be comical, as it is somehow so similar to when they first met, if it was not laced with potential danger.

“I was just resting for a moment,” Ignis says when Noctis asks him why he is sitting out here in the rain.

“It’s your ankle, isn’t it?”

Ignis nods sadly, his eyes dark. “I suppose the injury was worse than I initially thought.”

“Can you walk?”

“In between short breaks, I can manage, yes.”

Noctis helps Ignis stand, resting as much of the man’s weight against him as he can manage, and after a few dozen steps, his breathing is heavy. Along the path, whenever Ignis needs to sit down, Noctis relishes the short breaks, as well, but it is never long before they are walking up the path again.

“This is my fault, isn’t it?” Noctis mutters, one arm wrapped around Ignis’ back while the other is holding onto Ignis’ wrist, his arm draped around Noctis’ neck. Noctis is not expecting an answer, or not a genuine one, at least, but this is exactly what he receives.

“Of course not,” Ignis replies, his voice testy despite his pain. “The blame lies on myself. It did not hurt as much at the time of the injury, and I admit...I found your hands distracting.”

“My hands?”

“Yes. Well, they were quite soothing — your hands on me, when you were cleaning my wound. I was...happy. We had only just met, and yet I was so happy.”

If Noctis could look into Ignis’ eyes right now, he is not sure what he would see; maybe it would be a sad, longing look, as he had looked out on the cabin’s deck when Noctis returned his jacket. 

They are past the clearing with the small shelter when they run into Prompto and Gladiolus. Both men help ease Ignis from his arms, and Noctis has to stop himself from reaching out to keep him close. Ignis will be in better hands with them, after all, as Noctis is near collapsing at this point, as well.

Gladiolus is the one who carries Ignis the rest of the way back to the lodge, and Prompto helps catch Noctis every time he nearly stumbles in the mud. Noctis is relieved that they both came back to help, but he is more relieved that he was wrong about Gladio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a very kind anon on tumblr a few weeks back, asking about this story. If it hadn't been for you, kind anon, I probably wouldn't have mustered the patience to edit this chapter yet, so thank you! ♥


	4. Wednesday

The rain is hitting the windows of the cabin in thick droplets, and the clouds are muddying the late afternoon sky. The light coming in through the windows is drab and gray, but Noctis does not mind; since he has to stay indoors, he finds it calming as he relaxes. The lights are turned off in the cabin’s front room, and he is sitting on the couch next to a window. Ignis is beside him, reclined back with his injured foot resting upon a chair.

The nurse on-site deemed the injury a sprain and gave him potions to help ease the pain. Ignis has ice pressed against it, as well, which Noctis runs up to the lodge to replenish every so often.

It is recreation time, where everyone at camp is able to unwind by participating in various activities. Prompto is up at the archery range, practicing his aim; or that is what he told Noctis he would be doing, at least. Noctis would not be surprised to hear the cancellation of many of the fun activities, thanks to the crummy weather.

“You should go,” Ignis says, the same mantra he has been repeating every few minutes. “Go on and enjoy yourself.”

“You’ve been trying to get rid of me for half an hour now. It’s not gonna work, you know.”

Noctis intended to spend his recreation time fishing, but the weather is not playing along with his plans. The rain is harsh, and the winds are too strong; the creek outside is wild and unpredictable as it sloshes along the rocks. Even if the sun were shining, Noctis would still be here, sitting with Ignis. It may not be the most exciting part of his camp experience, but he had not wished to consider the alternative: Ignis alone, and needing something, whether it be ice, food, assistance, or someone to take the edge off of his loneliness.

“So, you’re from Tenebrae,” Noctis says, grasping at ideas for conversation in the silence.

“How did you — ah. Gladio, was it? Yes, we attend university there.”

Noctis does not have to look at a map to know how far away Tenebrae is; he visited there with his father once as a child. It was when the Niflheim Empire tried to kill his father, and Ignis’ parents were somehow caught in the crossfire.

“Bit of a long trip for a week-long camp, isn’t it?” Noctis cannot help the curiosity that creeps into his voice. “I’m surprised the Nifs even let you over.”

“It was a taxing journey, yes. A train to the coast, then aboard a ship, then the drive through half of Lucis to get here.” Ignis pauses for a moment, looking past Noctis and out the window beside him. “One might say this has been the trip of a lifetime.”

Noctis watches as Ignis closes his eyes; his chest moving as he inhales deeply.

“I don’t know if Gladio told you, but I was born here in Lucis. While my family is from Tenebrae, they wished to raise me in Insomnia. For the opportunities an Insomnian education posed, or some such.”

“Why’d you decide to leave, then?” Noctis’ heartbeat thumps in his chest, as he already knows the answer to his question, but he wishes to hear Ignis’ side of the story.

“My family...passed. Well, that was why I didn’t return to Insomnia, in any case. We were visiting relatives at the time it happened.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Ignis says, opening his eyes to look at Noctis without any of the hatred he had expected. “Anyway, my distant cousins in Tenebrae offered me a home, if I so chose to accept, which I did. It isn’t easy to refuse the Fleurets anything, I assure you.”

“The Fleurets — as in the Oracle?” Noctis asks.

“Yes, they are the distant relatives I mentioned. Third or fourth cousins, I’ve been told.”

“I’ve met Luna.”

Ignis nods, as if the idea that Noctis has met Luna at some point is not at all surprising to him. “She is a wonder, isn’t she? She is the only reason the empire allowed Gladio and I on this trip. I wished to see my homeland again, if only once.”

“Why don’t you stop by Insomnia on your way home?” The idea that Ignis might be able to visit the place of his birth and early childhood is exciting to Noctis, and he can hear the giddiness rise in his own voice. “It’s a little out of the way, but you’d be more than welcome there.”

“The empire’s leniency only extends so far, I’m afraid. I don’t think they’d allow me to return at all if I set foot in Insomnia without their permission.”

The look in Ignis’ eyes is sad now as he frowns, but a few moments later he forces a smile.

“It is a nice thought, though, isn’t it?” Ignis reaches out to touch Noctis’ shoulder. “Thank you.”

They sit in silence again until it is time for dinner. Noctis glances at Ignis, searching for some sort of sign or signal on what he should do.

“I’m not sure I’m up for dinner tonight,” Ignis says, noting the time. “I hope everyone will understand.”

“Of course they will.” Noctis pauses, thinking of all the campers who look up to Ignis, then says, “I’ll make them understand.”

Despite his words, Ignis attempts to stand up, but he wobbles as he tries to balance all of his weight on his uninjured foot.

“I might as well try,” Ignis says, as if Noctis was the one to protest his desire to remain in the cabin. “The air will be good for me, I think.”

“I think what’s best for you is to stay right here.” Noctis places both of his hands on Ignis’ shoulders and gives him what he hopes is a stern look. Ignis laughs, but as he tries to repress it, it comes out much more akin to a snort.

“You sounded a lot like me just then.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Well, no. Not entirely. But I much prefer hearing the way you talk.” Ignis has his hands over Noctis’ now, as if he intends to pluck them off of himself and shoo him out the door, but he does not. Noctis understands that he is soaking in the moment, much like himself, because, as they both know, Tenebrae is a very long way from Lucis. These will be the memories they have to hold onto once camp is over.

When Ignis sits back down, Noctis helps him prop his foot back on the chair, then heads outside to pick up their campers for dinner. The rain has eased to a slight drizzle, but the air is still chilly. He pulls his jacket tighter around himself, having remembered to wear it, for once.

Tonight, Noctis’ group is seated with Prompto’s, which eases his worries. His campers keep mentioning Ignis, asking where he is and why he is not at dinner.

“Is he okay?” one boy asks, stuffing the various greens of a salad into his mouth.

Noctis handles the situation appropriately, or at least he thinks he does; he explains that Ignis is still not feeling well after yesterday’s incident, but that he is back at Cactuar Cabin, as comfortable as can be expected. Prompto helps steer the conversation over to what everyone did during their recreation time, and it turns out he was able to practice his archery, after all.

“Gladio barely hit the target once,” Prompto admits, sighing, as if it matters to him at all. His eyes flicker toward Gladio, who is sitting a few seats down from him, and well within earshot.

“Watch it,” Gladio says, his tone much lighter than usual.

It is Noctis’ turn to provide food for Ignis this time. He is able to beg a plastic container from one of the workers in the kitchen, which he shovels different foods into. There are not any drinks he can take, as everything for tonight’s dinner is provided in pitchers, but he does manage to snag a bottle of water. It is not much, but it is better than drinking the water back in the cabin.

After dinner is another counselor meeting, as well as a class meeting for the students, so once Noctis drops off his group with their class, he heads down to the cabin. Ignis is no longer sitting in the main room, and is now in the bedroom, napping in his bunk. Noctis watches him for a moment, his eyes following the way Ignis’ chest rises and falls as he breathes. He sits beside him to tuck his blanket in before placing the container of food near his bed.

On Noctis’ pillow is another sticky note, and it is yellow this time.

> Noctis,
> 
> Thank you for sacrificing your recreation time to stay with me. I enjoy our talks very much.
> 
> I remain, as always,
> 
> Ignis.

The note is short, and Noctis wonders if they have become somewhat of a habit for Ignis to write at this point, just as they have become a habit for him to expect.

He pulls out his orientation sheet from the first day of camp and lies back on his own bed. His field study for tomorrow is on the subject of water with Ignis, and since his co-counselor is right here, he has no reason to gather in the lodge with the other counselors. He reads through some of the suggested activities for his topic: testing the water, and observing the creatures within it.

Ignis yawns from within his bunk, then pulls back his covers to sit up.

“Hey,” Noctis greets.

“I didn’t know anyone was here,” Ignis says. “Good evening. How was dinner?”

“I brought you some food.” Noctis motions to the food container next to the other counselor's bed.

As Ignis eats, they discuss the course of action for tomorrow’s field study. Ignis approves of Noctis’ ideas, and offers a few of his own to help enhance the experience for their study group.

It occurs to Noctis that they only have two days of camp left, then everyone will head home on Saturday. While he could sign up for outdoor school again, the experience will never be quite like this; he would be in a different cabin with different campers, and without Ignis. In all likelihood, he might not even be at Camp Myrlwood, but if anything, at least Prompto would be with him.

The sky outside is growing darker as they discuss the next day’s plans, and before long, Ignis tells Noctis they should head up to the campfire area. They take the journey slow, with Noctis’ arm wrapped around Ignis’ shoulders, much like the day before, but now, he does not have to worry as much about his safety. Instead of delivering him to the safe arms of his friend, Noctis is delivering him to one of the wooden benches in the campfire clearing after rounding up their group of campers from the lodge. Because of Ignis’ injury, they are allowed much more space than they were on previous nights. He thinks back to the warmth he felt when he was pressed against Ignis at campfires in the past, but them having their own space is pleasant, too.

Gladio has more stories prepared for tonight. He zips up his black leather jacket as he calls out to the crowd to quiet down.

“This story,” he says, “is called ‘The Terror of Tenebrae.’”

Noctis’ chest tightens, expecting another political jab, but Gladio looks at him and smiles — it is small, but unmistakable.

Ignis turns to him and whispers, “What was that?”

If Noctis doubted what he saw before, he knows it was not just his imagination now that Ignis noticed it, as well.

“I dunno. You think the big guy is warming up to me?”

“It’s possible, I suppose.” Ignis rests his hand beside Noctis’ on the bench between them, curling his fingers around the sharp edge as he leans forward. “Gladio does respect acts of the heroic sort.”

“Oh, is that what you’d call it?”

“Saving my life? Yes, I would call that ‘heroic.’”

“You’re being dramatic now,” Noctis protests.

Ignis squeezes Noctis’ hand. “You saw me. I could barely walk.”

“You told me you were just resting.”

Leaning in to Noctis’ ear, Ignis says, “I lied.”

Without further prompting, Noctis touches Ignis’ thigh. The denim of his jeans is rough beneath his hand, and the roar of the campfire is loud and hot as it crackles and pops a few feet away. Noctis looks into the deep green of Ignis’ eyes, not quite sure what he is seeing, but he does not look away. Ignis’ face is the only thing he wants to see for a long, long time: the black rims of his glasses, the slight bump on the bridge of his nose, the dark beauty marks smattered across his face. His lips look dry; not chapped, but raw and wanting. Noctis cannot remember if he saw Ignis finish the bottle of water he gave him earlier.

If Noctis leaned in now, it would be so easy for their lips to meet. They could kiss, as if no one would see, despite the majority of the camp being present, if not everyone. Touching Ignis’ leg is enough for now; it has to be. It reminds Noctis that this is real, but also that he has the choice of walking away. He does not want to — as his hand creeps ever so steadily up Ignis’ thigh — but the option hangs over Noctis’ head like a cloud.

Before Noctis can move his hand further, Ignis grabs it and brings it to his mouth. His lips are cold against Noctis’ skin, and the gesture reminds him of when his father sometimes allows people to kiss his hand. It is a revering sort of kiss, as if swearing an oath to a liege lord. Noctis wonders if this is what Ignis means; a promise of loyalty, and a promise for more.

Gladio is still telling one of his stories, but Noctis has missed most of it. From the look in Ignis’ eyes — calculating and almost dark — Noctis can tell he has, too. For the rest of the campfire, they hold hands on the bench. Ignis even takes off his glove again, and Noctis is able to feel the chill of his skin against his own. Their hands warm each other, and soon, there is a comforting heat where their skin touches. It is much like their experience here at camp, Noctis realizes; better with time and practice.

Once the event is over and the campfire itself is allowed to sizzle out, Noctis has to drop Ignis’ hand so he can help him up. Their group is relatively well-behaved as they head down to the cabin for bed; most of the boys are tired and ready for sleep, but there is always one who likes to lag behind.

After the campers are all tucked in for bed and the lights are turned out, the counselors are allowed an hour to socialize. Ignis tells Noctis that he wishes to participate tonight, despite his injury, so they rest for a few minutes before heading back up the hill to the lodge.

Prompto and Gladio are already sitting next to each other, with empty seats on either side of them. When presented with such a choice, Noctis has often opted to sit beside his friend, while Ignis does the same, but tonight, he decides otherwise. Now, Noctis and Ignis sit beside each other opposite of their friends, who can tell something is different between them.

“Whoa,” Gladio says, resting his elbows on the dining table in front of them. “This is new.”

“Is it?” Ignis looks to Prompto, who laughs awkwardly.

“He’s got you there,” Prompto says. Under the table, his foot kicks Noctis’, and for a moment, Noctis ignores it, assuming it was an accident — until he sees the flush on his friend’s face. He pulls out his phone to text him as Ignis and Gladio discuss tonight’s campfire.

> 10:20 PM  
>  Noctis: are you playing footsie with gladio
> 
> 10:21 PM  
>  Prompto: maybe  
>  Prompto: were you late because you were making out with ignis?

Noctis hits Prompto’s shin lightly with his foot, but Prompto still lets out an audible “ouch.”

“You okay?” Gladio asks Prompto, his eyes glaring at Noctis who he, of course, assumes is the culprit. For once, he is correct.

Prompto places his hand on Gladio’s arm in an attempt to placate him. “Uh, yeah. Must have been a flea bite or something. Ouch, am I right?”

Under the table, Noctis and Ignis have their own secret, as Ignis’ hand rests on Noctis’ thigh this time. Their fingers are twined together, and the rush Noctis feels from such a simple touch is exhilarating; he cannot hide the smile on his face.

> 10:26 PM  
>  Prompto: so i was right huh  
>  Prompto: i knew it
> 
> 10:29 PM  
>  Noctis: shut up

Noctis might have sent a longer reply if he had both of his hands to text with, but he is happier this way. He watches Ignis as he talks, and as he laughs; the sweetest sound.

“You glad camp’s almost over?” Gladio asks, and the moment the words have left his mouth, everyone else’s mood seems to sour. Ignis grips Noctis’ hand tighter, and Prompto sighs.

“Uh, no. You looking forward to getting back to sitting in lectures so long your butt goes numb?”

“You’re right.” Gladio nods. “It’s just...there’s a lot of kids to watch over.”

Noctis thinks of his and Ignis’ group, who have caused few problems so far. “They’re not so bad.”

“You should see mine and Prompto’s. The second we left the room after lights out, they all started smacking each other with pillows. One kid was building a pillow fort in the corner.”

“That’s Balmung Cabin for you,” Ignis says, smiling.

“Yeah, but...kids are fun to be around sometimes,” Prompto protests. “Right, Gladio?”

Noctis leans closer to Ignis. “Uh oh. Trouble in paradise. You want to get some air?”

As Gladio tries to defend himself from Prompto’s pouting, Noctis and Ignis step outside of the lodge. The sky is dark, and the only lights are from within a handful of cabins in the distance, as well as the faint blue glow of protection runes on the ground. Noctis’ teeth chatter as he rubs at his bare arms to ward off the chill.

Beside him, Ignis sighs, then says, “Come here.”

Noctis does not require further coaxing; he leans into Ignis, who wraps his arm around his shoulders.

“Do you never learn?” Ignis chastises. “You silly, silly man.”

“If I ‘learned,’ we wouldn’t be doing this.”

“I suppose not. But that all depends on you, doesn’t it?”

Noctis buries his head in the crook of Ignis’ neck, breathing him in. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re the one who has to use the excuse of forgetting your jacket to be in my arms,” Ignis says. “You know full well you are welcome any time.”

The words alone make Noctis feel warm; so warm, as every inch of his skin seems to heat up. He opens his mouth, searching for words, when Ignis points at the sky.

“Look,” he says. Up above, high in the sky, are a smattering of stars, gleaming brightly in the night. With the pollution in major cities, it is impossible to see them this clear back home in Insomnia. It is a ous sight for Noctis, less for the stars themselves and more for the person he is able to share them with.

When they return inside, Prompto and Gladio are playing cards. Half of the deck lies face up on the table in a messy pile.

“Whoever wins gets to boss the other around for a day,” Prompto explains. “Or whenever we have free time, at least.”

“I can tell who made that wager,” Ignis says as he eases back into his chair.

Gladio slams a card onto the ever-growing pile. “Then you already know who’s gonna win.”

As social hour is coming to a close, they only have a few minutes to finish up their card game. Whether the time limit makes Gladio nervous, or some other reason, he runs out of cards first, leaving Prompto as the winner. Prompto stands, shouts “woohoo,” and pumps his fists in the air, as if he has won a great boon. Noctis shakes his head at the idea that maybe Gladio wanted Prompto to win.

As the friends head their separate ways, with Prompto waving at Noctis until the darkness seems to swallow him, he feels that giddiness rise back up in his throat. Whether it be for show or because he is feeling much better, Ignis is able to mostly walk by himself. Utilizing his newfound freedom, Ignis takes the opportunity to twine his hand with Noctis’ again as they head back down the hill.

“How’s the pain?” Noctis asks. He cannot remember the last time Ignis mentioned having any pain.

“The potions work wonders,” Ignis says. “I have few complaints.”

Near the bottom of the hill, Ignis nearly stumbles, and they have to resume their usual embrace, with Noctis’ arm wrapped around Ignis’ back, supporting him. When they make it up to the deck of the cabin, Noctis remembers how he rejected Ignis here; it is like a negative aura still remains, and he wishes to make things right.

At the top of the steps, as Ignis pauses to reassess his bearings, Noctis turns to him. The darkness gives him a boldness he may never have possessed otherwise, and he leans in, bumping his nose against Ignis’.

“Why don’t you just kiss me already?” Noctis asks, his voice tired from exhaustion as well as his and Ignis’ awkward dance these past few days. He is determined to stop it right here and right now — or perhaps start it anew.

In the dark, Noctis cannot make out the expression on Ignis’ face.

“I don’t think that would be appropriate,” Ignis finally says after a few painstaking moments.

The aura of rejection grows thicker by the moment as Noctis gawks at him. It coats him and every memory he has made so far at camp, soiling it like a nightmare ruins sleep.

“You serious?” Noctis says, his fists clenching at his side. “And you think everything else we’ve been doing has been ‘appropriate?’”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m afraid you need to be more accountable for your actions,” Ignis replies, his voice growing more irritated with each word.

“The hell does that even mean?”

“You shouldn’t only be thinking of yourself right now.”

“I’m not. Where the hell is this coming from?” Noctis searches the darkness, where he knows Ignis’ face to be, for answers. “You want to kiss me, too, don’t you?”

For a second, Noctis thinks that, despite everything that has happened, maybe he has been the one misunderstanding Ignis’ signals every step of the way. The thought only lasts for a moment as Noctis recalls the feeling of Ignis’ lips pressed to his head; of Ignis’ hand on his thigh, and of their hands intertwined.

“I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to answer that,” Ignis is saying, his voice calm now. “We can discuss this further tomorrow once you’ve cooled down, if you wish.”

“Why won’t you give me a straight answer?” Perhaps he is being stubborn, but Noctis feels he has earned the right at this point. “Or am I not worth that, either?”

Something touches Noctis’ cheek, but he swats it away — Ignis’ hand.

“You are worth everything,” Ignis murmurs.

It does not feel that way to Noctis; he feels strung along like a child’s plaything. It would hurt less if he could grasp Ignis’ angle. Gladio, after all, had been wrong about Ignis despising him for what happened to his family, and yet there is still this wall between them.

In his bed, Noctis lies awake for hours wondering what this wall is made up of, and how he might begin to break it down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [KatelynnKittaly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatelynnKittaly/profile) kindly allowed me to use their headcanon about Ignis being related to the Fleurets.


End file.
